Garnet
by Anastasia-G
Summary: The price of blood and magic is always high, always unexpected, and sometimes, just sometimes, your only hope of salvation. AU (mostly). Klaus/Bonnie with some Rebekah/Marcel. OCs.
1. Chapter 1

**This is mostly AU. Klaus left MF with Rebekah once he was Unlinked in 3x21, and the Originals scattered. Klaroline was never a thing (I'm sorry I just can't stand what that relationship did to both characters). Bonnie stayed back however, and lived through all the Alaric and Silas stuff and put herself in a year long coma after performing the spell to bring Jeremy back from the dead. I'll be doing a few flashbacks etc to show the AU version of Bonnie and Klaus' MF interactions. **

**I wanna thank my amazing betas Shakarean and Alia for their tireless help, for listening to my endless plot changes and headcanons, and for reading (and re-reading!) multiple drafts. Also, thank u Annie, queen of titles, for helping me come up with one. And massive shout-out to Nisha for the gorgeous graphic and for being my TVD consultant. Jazzywazzy: thanks for the writer chats and for letting me rant about Julie Plec in your inbox. **

**Finally, thank you to the Bonnie fandom for being such an undefeatable force of creativity and passion. I hope my fic contributes to that legacy in a small way. xoxoxox**

* * *

_"Darkling, I listen; and, for many a time_

_ I have been half in love with easeful Death,_

_ Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,_

_ To take into the air my quiet breath"_

- John Keats, _Ode to a Nightingale_

* * *

"Like I told Jacques, two more weeks." Bonnie kept her voice low, mindful of the paper thin walls of the break room. She only had a few more minutes before one of the other girls came in for their break.

The vampire on the other end of the line also lowered his voice, though his purpose was menace rather than discretion, "Jakey isn't doing business anymore. I am."

A slow unease crept over her. "What happened to Jacques?"

"Don't worry your pretty lil' head darlin'. Just get me two pints by Friday."

"That's not gonna happen. I told you I need-,"

"Make it happen. You don't want me to become persuasive."

Bonnie pressed END as soon as the door swung open. Loretta, a tall busty red-head with a bad smoking habit, gave her a suspicious once over. "Break's over hun. Get your ass out there."

"Be right there," Bonnie checked her reflection in the mirror, willing the angry lines on her temple to subside and smoothing down her hair. Since she'd left Mystic Falls three months ago she'd been wrapping her hair herself so it framed her face in soft waves. The style helped downplay the gauntness of her features from regular blood-loss, and disguised the flashes of emotion in her vivid green eyes and mutinous lips.

She checked her phone one last time. Two missed calls from Jeremy. She pushed it to the back of her mind, though not without a stab of guilt.

Loretta watched her pop two iron pills in her mouth with a curious look on her face. "You anemic or something?"

"Yea. Something like that."

She brushed past Loretta and returned to the floor. The small dingy bar was full of its usual Friday night crowd. A local classic-rock act was stomping all over the stage and the black floors were already slick with spilled drinks no one had time to clean up. She walked behind the bar and started cleaning off the taps, moving dirty glasses into the sink. A few drunken patrons leered openly at her but after two months of working at the Red Raven she was no longer shocked. There was a reason the owner, Eric, made his waitresses wear tight black shorts and clingy white-t-shirts that left nothing to the imagination.

The back of her neck tingled, and her magic hummed a quiet warning in her ears. She was being watched. Unconsciously, her fingers brushed the necklace of silver-encased vervain at her throat. She turned, wiping off the counter and casting furtive glances around the room. But apart from the usual leers and stares, there was nothing suspicious.

And yet, she felt it again. That nagging prickle along the base of her scalp.

Someone was watching her with purpose, and she intended to find out who.

* * *

Klaus remembered the taste of her blood.

It was brief, a tantalizing drop trickled off her upper lip after she'd performed the Unlinking spell for him some three years ago.

Still, the taste of a witch like Bonnie Bennett was not easily forgotten.

He watched her wiping glasses and filling drinks behind the bar, swimming in a veritable soup of ogling customers.

_Oh how the mighty have fallen._

He knew she could sense him, but he wasn't ready to reveal himself yet. Closing his eyes, he conjured the memory of her blood, sweet as a lemondrop on his tongue.

Klaus returned to watching her handle her duties with a mechanical ease while her mind was clearly elsewhere. The miniscule shorts sat well on her rounded rump, and the white -top outlined her breasts and tapered waist. He couldn't blame the drunken louts devouring her with their eyes. But unlike the older, more experienced servers, there was stiffness in her spine, and her slim shoulders were slightly hunched like a turtle poised to retreat into a shell.

"I'm bored," Rebekah sighed, "And it smells like piss. Why are we here again?"

His fingers toyed with the empty liquor glass, "Tell me Bekah, what do you remember about our time in Paris?

She rolled her eyes, "Well before you killed my lover, we lived like kings, did whatever we wanted," then something almost wistful came into her voice, "It felt like the world was ours for the taking."

"And how would you like to live that way again?" he directed her eyes over to Bonnie Bennett, who was balancing a heavy tray of drinks over to a group of young men in sports jerseys. Klaus noted her tenseness, masked in a tight, compact kind of grace. She looked as out of place as an edelweiss flower in a swamp.

The scroll was clear about the terms of the Sacrifice. And the moment he saw those words - pure, fire, heart - he thought instantly of a fiery field, a young witch slender as a willow tree in a storm, that drop of sharp-sweetness dissolving in his mouth.

"And the Bennett witch is our ticket to former glory?" Rebekah sounded skeptical, but he ignored that. The years since they'd left Mystic Falls had been largely fruitless. Until now.

"Glory, power, unchecked indulgence in whatever we desire. Bonnie Bennett is the world, and all we have to do," Klaus kept his eyes on Bonnie's petite form, "is take her."

* * *

One of the men Bonnie was serving, a long-faced fellow in a green plaid button-down, made a great show of ogling and trying to grab a handful of her ass. She wove between his grasping hands, tight smile in place while setting beer mugs down twice the size of her forearm. When she jerked her hips to avoid plaid-shirt's hand, some of the drinks sloshed onto her shirt.

"Shit," Bonnie tried to take a step, still balancing the tray. Klaus saw the next few seconds before they happened, and seized the opportunity.

As Bonnie lost her footing, free-hand shooting out, green-shirt grabbed her hip, trying to pull her into his lap. Klaus intervened, grasped her splayed fingers and tugged. She tumbled against his chest, steadied by his other arm that swiftly circled her waist.

Bonnie had the strange sensation of being pulled against a brick-wall smelling of expensive aftershave. A strong arm encircled her. She glanced up at when he spoke, blinking in disbelief.

"Hello, love."

Slim brows crashed into a frown as she realized who he was and she stumbled out of his grip.

"What the hell are you doing here?'

Green-shirt tried to stand, "Hey asshole she was still serving my drink-," caught off guard when Klaus pressed a hand to his chest.

Klaus smiled into the man's eyes until the pupils dilated

The man slouched off to the confused protests of his friends.

Bonnie whirled on him, "What did you do to him?"

"I wouldn't let it bother you, love."

Klaus smirked and pocketed his hands, recalling the last time he'd said those words to her. Her frown looked exactly the same. He could almost hear her next words, instead Bonnie doubled back towards the bar with him on her heels. Picking up the bar-phone, she asked the bouncer to check on green-shirt dude. Deep inside though she was relieved; that guy showed up every week and never left without copping an unwanted feel. She hung up and turned around to face Klaus.

"I see you finally quit that insipid little town, ."

Crossing her arms, she sized up the Original in front of her. Wearing a loose grey shirt and slim jeans, with one of his strange beaded necklaces exposed by the v-neck, he radiated a debonair carelessness that, she knew from experience, was only a facade for the ruthless power underneath . The scent of his aftershave still lingered about in her nostrils from when she'd been pressed against his chest.

"What do you want, Klaus?" She tried her best to sound cool and intimidating, though she was certain her heartbeat gave her away. If he decided to pull something in this bar she would literally be powerless to stop him.

Full lips twitched in a smile, "You're in a bar, I'm a devastatingly handsome bloke, if you do the math-"

She narrowed her eyes, "I'm working, I don't have time for your games."

To her annoyance, the blond vampire eased himself onto a barstool and slid a twenty dollar bill across the table, "One whiskey sour please. Keep the change"

She mixed the drink and placed it in front of him, along with exact change."Anything else?"

"Yes. It seems I'm in need of some witchy help and you were at the top of my list."

"You're kidding. Right?" she gave a short, sharp laugh.

He picked up the glass, ignoring the money and eyeing her over the rim.

"I will of course also provide your meals, your clothing, your transport for however long it takes while we work together," Klaus went on, smooth as if they were negotiating a corporate salary package.

"So I can be your hired witch?" she snorted, "No thanks. Now leave me alone."

A flash of anger ruffled his boyish features.

Rounding the bar, she tried to brush past him but his hand reached out, long fingers easily encircling her slender arm. The thinness gave him pause; he'd always noticed her being a wispy little thing but now her bones felt fragile as matchsticks in his hand.

"Better the devil you know," he whispered, close enough his breath tickled her ear, "and you know I keep my promises to you."

While she glanced around to make sure her supervisor wasn't watching, Klaus continued in a low voice, "I know about your situation, love. I know you got in over your pretty head trying to save the Gilbert boy," his warm, rough hand slid down her arm, "I know it put you in a coma for almost a year. I know about Silas murdering your father. And I know you're here because you don't have a cent to your name."

Bonnie forced herself to stay composed, to not let his deep modulant voice pull her strings. This was a game to him, her deepest sorrows and fears were pawns for his strategy. He'd been the same in Mystic Falls, trying to worm his way into her head so he could use her without Compulsion.

"Help me, and I'll ensure you never have to work again. You can buy Mystic Falls for a playground if you wish," he paused, breathing the scent of shampoo and coconut-oil in her hair, "And get your father a decent headstone."

Bonnie jerked her arm away, and Klaus had flash of deja vu. They were in the parlor of his mansion at Mystic Falls, and young Bonnie Bennett with her loose, girlish hair and doe-eyes looked him in the face and said simply "You bother me." Then as now, he needed to force her righteous little hand. She faced him calmly though he he could see the glint of unshed tears in her eyes.

"No," she said, "I'm done with magic and vampires. Just, please, leave me alone." It was not entirely a lie. Her magic was drastically weakened after the coma. She could barely manage the simplest spells. But witch's blood was apparently a hot commodity in New Orleans so she'd been selling hers for some much-needed extra-cash.

Klaus angled his head, trying to put his finger on what was different about her. He remembered the first time he saw her, the sunlight bouncing off her fresh, young radiance. Now she was all haunted eyes and a demeanor brittle as glass. The change irritated him, stirred an anger that had no target.

Still, she was the key to his plan. And he held all the cards.

Hopping off the stool, he flashed a brilliant smile, "Well it was lovely catching up. My offer remains open," he picked up her hand and gave it a casual kiss, "keep the change, pet."

* * *

The prickly feeling on her neck stopped, which meant Klaus had probably left.

For the rest of the night, Bonnie went through her duties in a daze. Klaus was here, in New Orleans of all places! And he needed her help, would even pay her exorbitantly for it. She thought of her hard-won tips and meagre paychecks, the precious bags of her blood sold to vampires; three months of both and she was still up to her ears in debt. Working for Klaus could take care of everything in a single cheque.

It wasn't fair.

Klaus was dangerous, far more powerful than he should be, and unpredictable.

And yet...She remembered being led out of his manor after the Unlinking spell, his hand on the small of her back guiding her away from Damon's tortured cries. His words of goodbye before seeing her out the door. A kiss to her prone hand, those cool blue eyes glinting at her._ "Take care, little dove."_

She'd been too flustered and overwhelmed to respond. It was only later, exhausted and numb, that anger at muttered questions in her head. How dare he? How dare he come into her life, take what he needed, and just leave? She couldn't decide what she was angrier about: that Klaus had got what he wanted and skipped town with no consequences, or that she was left behind to an increasingly claustrophobic life.

She wondered what it was about him that seduced witches like Greta into complete submission. How fast did it descend from innocent hand-kissing and gallant offers to utter surrender? Remembering his smooth, sonorous voice, his breath ghosting her ear, she shivered. There'd always been something different about the way Klaus looked at her. Other vampires regarded her with hate, grudging respect or suspicion; Klaus looked at her like he was privy to all her secrets, even the ones she didn't suspect about herself yet.

Bonnie glanced at the clock. Her shift was done. Since she wasn't closing, she gathered her purse and backpack and, after a brief deliberation, pocketed the hefty tip Klaus had left her.

* * *

Joy Hopkinson was nervous as she followed her girlfriend, Amber, down the muddy slope to the riverbank. The trees were all sweaty with recent rain, the river flowing full and strong.

"Just a little further," Amber shouted, swatting mosquitoes off her face.

"Why can't we drink in the car?" she shot back.

"Stop being such a wuss, we're vampires. Besides, the river's beautiful at night."

"Marcel said no one's supposed to leave Quarter until they find Jacques," Joy pointed out, stepping carefully around the muddy tangled undergrowth.

Amber laughed, "Marcel's just being Marcel. All this talk about a war coming - ,"

They'd reached the river bank. Moonlight swirled in the eddies of water, glistened silver on the bare flesh of river stones.

Joy took her by the hand, squeezed it tight, "What if Marcel is right? What if whoever kidnapped Jacques and killed those girls really is gonna declare war on the quarter?"

Amber sighed and put down the brown paper bag containing their beer. She nuzzled Joy's hand against her cheek, "Jacques is probably buried in a trashy sorority girl somewhere and that's why Marcel hasn't heard from him. Not because some demon took him."

Joy sighed. She didn't like being the worrywart, but it was her nature. "What about that dead body the police fished out of the river? The one with its head cut off? Marcel said even werewolves don't usually behead people."

"So bad things are happening around us," Amber stroked her cheek, "what else is new? At least we're not those helpless girls we used to be."

She silenced Joy's protest with a soft, slow kiss until at last Joy gave in and wrapped herself around Amber's body. Unable to resist, she used her fangs to pierce Amber's lips. For a few moments it was only them and the throbbing quietness of the bayou, blood mingling on their hungry mouths.

When they broke apart, Joy smiled and leaned their foreheads together, "You're such a bad influence."

"The baddest."

They both took swigs from the liquor bottle they'd stolen. It burned hot as blood down Joy's throat.

Amber draped an arm over her shoulder "See, I told you it was worth it."

But Joy wasn't listening, she was staring at some gnarled tree roots half buried in the water some distance away. A strange, pale log floated there, resisting the current.

"What the hell is that?"

Joy stepped around Amber and squinted. The log was unnaturally still and fish-belly white. Then suddenly, it vanished into the dark water.

All her previous uneasiness returned to grip Joy. "Amber, I think we should-,"

There was a splash and a pale, twisted figure burst from the water at their feet. Joy saw lidless black eyes and a long, black tongue. Icy, paralyzing fear filled her veins.

Somewhere a heron screamed, shattering the moon's silence.


	2. Chapter 2

"You expecting someone?'

Bonnie jumped at Loretta's question. The two of them were closing and it was almost 3 a.m. Loretta was elbow-deep in dishes while she tackled the mopping. It was two days since she'd run into Klaus, and she kept expecting shadows to jump out and seize her at every corner.

"No," Bonnie looked away from the door and hefted the mop again, "just thought I heard something."

"Blondie giving you a ride?"

"What?"

"That dude monopolizing you Wednesday night. Looked like sugar-daddy material to me," she teased.

Bonnie laughed,"Do me a favor and never say 'sugar daddy' again ok? He's just someone I know from Virginia."

Klaus hadn't made any attempt to contact her since that night. She'd hoped to push the incident out of her mind but every time she checked her bank account, each time she warmed up her dollar-store soup noodles, each time she looked over her shoulder for Jacques' vampires, she thought of Klaus saying _Work for me and you can buy Mystic Falls for a playground._

"Hey turn the volume up," Loretta jerked her head at the tv above the bar. Bonnie set her mop down and obliged. The local news was on, and a picture of a young girl with black braided hair and a nose-ring appeared on screen.

_"And in local news, a body identified as Amelia Esperanza, 18 years old, of West County, was discovered at the river this morning. While we await the coroner's report, one gruesome fact remains, or rather doesn't remain in the form of her severed head. Police are trawling the river for the missing body part but with as yet no results. Esperanza was an orphan living with her grandmother, Aurelia Esperanza, 60, a community member who is devastated by her granddaughter's murder."_

Loretta swore under her breath, "Y'know that's the second one this month?"

An older woman appeared onscreen, barely holding herself up behind a microphone as she urged the public to come forward with any information about Amelia. Her mop of salt-and-pepper hair reminded Bonnie of Grams.

Someone pounded on the door and they both looked away from the TV.

"We're closed," Loretta yelled.

Bonnie turned around, "I'll tell them-,"

But she only took a few steps towards the door before it was torn off its hinges.

* * *

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Hmmm?" Klaus let his tongue follow the trickle of liquor from the woman's clavicle to her pulse. He tasted powder, perfume and sweat along the way, mixed with the Macallens he'd dribbled down her breasts.

She started to wriggle playfully, pushing his hand away from beneath her sequinned mini-dress, "How come I've never seen you here before?"

He palmed her knee, pulling back to stare in her grey eyes until her eyelashes fluttered and she lost her train of thought.

"No I wanna know too," the brunette on his left stopped stroking his thigh, giggling at her friend, "your accent sure isn't Southern", manicured fingernails grazed his shirt-collar. But her cajoling tone turned petulant when he shook off both their hands and leaned over to pour himself another whiskey. He'd lost count of how many he'd had since retiring to the private booth.

He was drunk, bored, and getting drunker. The whiskey warmth faded faster down his throat with each swig, and yet he could still hear rain tinkling on the pine-needles of a long-dead forest, Henrik's body growing cold in his arms, and Mikael's harsh voice shouting Beast. Abomination.

He'd thought Mikael's death would bring him absolution, but all he felt was an emptiness where his rage and fear used to be.

_Niklaus_

_Niklaus_

_Klaus!_

Fuck, now he was hearing bloody disembodied voices.

His two companions were giving him odd looks. For the life of him he couldn't remember either of their names. Emptying out the bottle, he took one last swig. This time the burn was even more ephemeral. His tongue felt like ash and stone, not even the thought of draining the women behind him dry, not even the smell of their blood bubbling beneath the skin, could truly tempt him. He licked his lips and imagined the taste of witch's blood, her blood.

Sweet little Bonnie Bennett. She'd refused his offer but there was still time.

_Niklaus!_

_Klaus!_

A hand touched his shoulder and he grabbed the wrist in a vice-like grip, making the brunette wince. "I wouldn't do that, sweetheart," he flung her hand off and she rubbed her sore wrist, muttering.

When he stood up he heard the voice again. Calling his name.

_Niklaus!_

Klaus strode into the men's room, thinking a piss might clear his head. He'd just zipped up his fly and was washing his hands when the voice caught him off-guard again.

_Klaus_

A figure moved in the mirror and he blinked. It was a woman, statuesque with long dark hair, a straight nose and almond eyes.

He turned around and saw only empty air.

_Must be drunker than I thought._

"What in hell-,"

There she was again, in the mirror. He narrowed his eyes. Something about her face nagged him with familiarity. She didn't move her lips, but he knew it was her voice that called his name. Dark eyes glowered at him, impatient and urgent.

_You have to get to Bonnie, now._

* * *

Sweat trickled down her spine, slipped off her forehead and into her eyes, salted and cracked her lips. Every muscle in her body was in agony, and a dull ache was throbbing at the base of her skull.

Bonnie focused each atom in her body on holding up the barrier spell between her and the vampire.

Loretta's body lay at his feet, limbs akimbo and neck broken. She'd tried to run.

Bonnie knew her magic was about to give out, the pain shooting through her limbs signaled this, and when the barrier collapsed she would be helpless. Unless she could get to her purse in the break-room and the vials of vervain inside. If she could inflict some kind of pain she might stand a chance.

"What do you want?" she tried to sound authoritative, but her arms were starting to shake from the effort of staying outstretched. If she kept him distracted she might have enough time to make it to her purse.

The vampire took a step forward. He was tall and powerfully built, dressed in jeans and a military jacket, with a spiderweb tattoo on the side of his neck. His face might have been handsome, with its square jaw and aquiline nose, but his grey-green eyes were fixed on her like a hawk on a rat, and when his thin lips drew back from his teeth in a cold smile she cursed herself for not keeping the vervain on her. At least she had her necklace. "Don't come any closer."

"Ooh little kitty's got claws," he nudged the air between them with his foot, feeling the barrier of her magic, "you can't hide forever darlin'-," just like that his face changed, eyes going black and features contorting.

He started pacing up and down, scanning the roof, trying to get to her. With each second she could sense his agitation, the growing menace in his eyes, an addict in desperate need of a fix.

He wants my blood.

Bonnie kept backtracking, trying to get as close to the break room as possible before the barrier gave out, "You must be Jacques' friend. What was your name again-,"

"Didn't come here for small talk, sweet thing," he licked his fangs.

Just a few more steps and she'd be in the room. She really wished she played poker. Bluffing was not on her list of skills.

"You want blood? Fine, just let me go home-"

He roared and lunged, sending tremors through the invisible shield that tore through her nerves. Bonnie thought fast. Dropping the shield, she used her last bit of magic to push him violently backwards and bolted for the break-room. She was almost dizzy, her head pounding like a drum. Her fingers grasped a vial before she felt herself yanked off her feet. Her back connected hard against the lockers and she slid to the ground with a groan. He put his hands on her shoulders and yanked her up.

"Fuck!" his skin sizzled where it brushed her necklace and she used the lapse to smash the vial of vervain into his face.

He released her with a snarl and Bonnie tried to rush for the door. She almost made it before he grabbed her by her hair. Banding an arm around her torso, he pulled her hair so her neck was at maximum arch, exposed and vulnerable.

"I don't like to play with my food darlin'," his hot, acrid breath fanned her cheek. Part of his jaw was skinless and bloody from the vervaine, but bloodlust glowered black and hot in his eyes. With a snarl he tore the vervaine necklace off her throat.

She didn't know why she screamed when his fangs tore into her skin.

It wasn't like anyone would hear her.

* * *

Klaus wasn't prone to second-guessing himself, but even the sturdiest bloke would surely think twice before listening to strange feminine apparitions giving them cryptic instructions. He kept glancing at the rear-view, expecting to see those dark slanted eyes as he sped towards the Red Raven. Instead he only heard the echoes of that voice saying_ Get to Bonnie, now._

As soon as he pulled up he saw the wreckage of the door. Rushing inside, Klaus found the red-headed waitress growing cold on the floor.

Only one other heartbeat was discernible.

He could smell her blood even before he saw the male vampire bent over Bonnie's body in a feeding frenzy, slurping and growling as he lapped up blood. Klaus grabbed his shoulder and tore him away from the witch, but the vampire surprised him with a vicious side-swipe that sent him reeling. Klaus felt the metal lockers dent where his back smashed into them and he grunted, trying to salvage his lightning-fast reflexes from the dulling effects of alcohol.

Bonnie was on the floor, barely moving.

Her attacker faced him, black-veined eyes throbbing and high on witch's blood in the vampire version of a PCP-rage. He charged Klaus like a bull, narrowly missing him as he leapt out of the way.

Cracking his neck, Klaus positioning himself by Bonnie's feet and squared his shoulders, "This is over. The witch is mine." He could hear Bonnie's pulse growing weaker with each second.

The vamp bared his fangs in mockery. His mouth was coated in blood. Bonnie's blood. The entire room swam with its heady scent.

"Guess that makes you _careless_, don't it boy?"

Klaus had him by throat before he could remember to move. He squeezed, saw his eyes pop as his feet lifted off the ground, jaw foaming and chomping. Through the haze of his own rage Klaus could swear the prick's face looked like Mikael. Same tiny pugnacious eyes. Same bitter mouth. He tightened his grip until the vampire was choking, coughing up bloody bits of his own throat.

A small moan from Bonnie fell against his ears. She was still alive, but barely.

Klaus broke the vamp's neck then smashed him down hard enough the back of his head cracked like an egg on the floor.

Kneeling by the semi-conscious witch, he slid an arm beneath her back and cradled her against his shoulder. The side of her throat looked like it was torn by a wolf. Blood dripped from the mauled flesh, soaking her white t-shirt. A deadly pallor was creeping beneath her soft brown skin.

The scent of her blood assailed him like a gut-punch, and Klaus remembered he hadn't fed. She made a small choking gasp in his arms, and a hunger so violent shuddered through him it made his vision swim. Bonnie's head was lolling back on his arm, her bloodied throat exposed and beckoning.

It would be so easy, so sweet. Sink in his fangs, drain her past the edge of death, absorb the last throbbings of her furious heart into his veins. He could almost taste the tart rich flavor of her blood swirling over his tongue and coating the inside of his throat with sugar and spice. So easy, so sweet. His brain hummed a sing-song of desire. So so sweet. A sweet witch's blood for his jaded appetite. Klaus groaned and his fangs started to descend of their own volition.

Just then, Bonnie's eyes fluttered open, green as springtime in the forests of his childhood. He saw the confusion and fear there, the helpless anger. A small hand brushed his chest, like she was trying to push him away. Like she would fight him even with her throat half-torn open.

The scroll said: _only a Witch's heart, and one pure as Water, Fire and Blood, but Stronger than all three._

He needed Bonnie alive in order to achieve something larger than temporary release. He could have all the power in the world at his fingertips, if he kept her alive long enough for his true purpose.

Her hand fell to the ground and those green eyes clouded over with unconsciousness.

Klaus opened the vein on his wrist and held it over her mouth. Blood dribbled onto her chin and lips but she made no move to drink. Setting her head gently on the floor, he parted her lips and eased his bleeding wrist between them. He then rubbed under her jaw to help her swallow. Slowly, he felt her mouth move, the tongue flicking his open vein.

Satisfied she would live, he lifted her up and carried her to his car. She would be unconscious for a long time, but already he could feel warmth returning to her flesh as his blood travelled through her veins, coursing through the heart that was the key to his future.

* * *

**Reviews are love! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I'm not very happy with how this chapter turned out, but if I kept editing and polishing as much I'd like this story wouldn't get published until we all had grandchildren. And then no one would remember what TVD is. LOL. Thank u to everyone who reviewed and followed this story, your support is so very appreciated 3**

* * *

_"My haunted lungs_  
_Ghost in the sheets_  
_I know if I'm haunting you_  
_You must be haunting me"_

- 'Haunted' by Beyoncé

**Four Months Earlier**

_She walked alone in a field of ash. The sky was grey through the skeletal, leafless trees, and the only light came from cold, distant stars._

_Bonnie had no idea what this place was, only that she couldn't escape it. At first she tried running, looking for the sun, screaming, but the dead forest had no end and the sky never dawned into daylight._

_Sometimes she thought she heard familiar voices, whispers, but they confused her because one time she swore she heard Caroline's voice but the next it was her Grams, and they couldn't all be in the same place could they? Was she alive or were they dead?_

_At last she gave up. A coldness settled into her flesh, and she lay down on the ash soft as feathers and let the black sky fill her eyes until she felt like she was floating. How long she lay there, Bonnie didn't know, but with each moment she felt herself grow lighter, as though her body was slowly dissolving, and after a while it seemed almost peaceful to allow the dissolution, to melt away and cease existing._

_"For Isis' sake. Stop melting away."_

_This time the voice was different, it was full-bodied and clear and she could hear footsteps. Bonnie scrambled to sit up as a tall, elegant figure came into view. Dark glittering skirts moved with each step until the woman stood in front of her, and Bonnie took in the feminine, regal face with its almond-shaped eyes and halo of long dark curls._

_A name like the torn fragment of a dream floated through her mind. "Qetsiyah...what do you want?"_

_A tilt of the head was followed by an enigmatic smile. "I think the question is, what do you want, Bonnie?"_

_"I want to know why I'm here."_

_"Simple. You're here because you once again disobeyed the 'mighty' spirits by trying to resurrect your Jeremy." It seemed like Qetsiyah had no large love for the spirits._

_"So I'm...dead?" as she said the words, a cold wind swept the ground, raising a flurry of ashes around her and rattling the bare branches._

_Qetsiyah looked down at her, dark hair waving around her shoulders and face, "No. Not yet. Not if you let me help you."_

_"Why would you help me?"_

_"Because I know what it's like to earn the wrath of the powers that be. Because I was once young and naive too," her dark eyes glowed like embers, "And because we can help each other."_

_ "What do I have to do?__"_

_Qetsiyah clicked her tongue in impatience, "There will be time for questions later. If you linger here much longer, your connection to your body will be severed. Decide, now."_

_She extended a graceful hand to her, and Bonnie spotted a ring with a strange symbol, a crescent moon bracketing a single round opal. Her eyes fixated on the pale luminous orb._

_The fingers did an impatient wiggle when Bonnie hesitated._

_"Stand up, girl."_

_And so she did._

_The sky dissolved into a sea of clouds._

_The face of a different woman, dressed in a white lab-coat, smiled above her, "Welcome back, Bonnie."_

* * *

**Present Day, New Orleans**

Klaus fingered the heavy yellow paper of the leather-bound book on his lap, recognizing the ancient symbol of Hecate: a crescent cradling the full moon. There was an engraving beside it of a statuesque witch with black hair and a regal face, the same woman who'd appeared mysteriously to him the other night. _Qetsiyah_ was the name written by her image. One of Bonnie's many powerful ancestors. So the girl wasn't completely abandoned, but Spirits could only influence so much in the physical world.

"Admit it, Nik. You've always had a weakness for the girl."

He and Rebekah had finished dinner and were drinking wine in the study, waiting for Marcel to arrive. Rebekah was peevish about Marcel coming over and, when Klaus had ignored her demands to un-invite him, started needling him with comments about Bonnie.

"Her powers were wasted on the Salvatores and their precious doppelganger," he turned another page, eyes scanning the Latin inscriptions, "you know how I hate squandered power."

Rebekah gave a hollow laugh, toying with her empty wine glass, "'Squandered power' is that a fancy way of saying 'squandered chance to get my dick in another witch'?"

"I'm sure Marcel will be thrilled to see the years have dimmed neither your charm nor your inability to handle alcohol," he proffered a bland smile.

"You're an arse, Nik." she narrowed her eyes before walking over to the cabinet and pouring herself another glass.

He tuned her out. Normally he enjoyed bickering with Rebekah because she was so easily irritated, but tonight there was truth in her comments even though he'd rather stab his eye out with a pencil than admit it.

And the truth was, ever since he'd saved Bonnie from that ravenous vampire and fed her his blood, he couldn't take his mind off her.

This wasn't like Mystic Falls, when the little witch with her forest-nymph eyes and whip-smart tongue was, no matter how alluring, only a stepping stone to making hybrids and Unlinking himself. No, this time everything depended on keeping her safe until the time was right for the Sacrifice. He couldn't resort to threats against her friends (she might acquiesce at first but she would be constantly plotting how to boil him in a vat of wolfsbane), he needed to earn her trust and keep her, willingly, at his side. Keep her in the dark right up until he slid the knife across her lovely neck.

But even that couldn't quite explain why his thoughts constantly strayed to her, why he couldn't walk into the house without listening for the sound of her bird-like heartbeat. It didn't explain why he found himself drawn to her in a wholly different way. For the past two days as Bonnie lay unconscious, recovering with the aid of his blood in her system, her presence hung around him like a humid, intoxicating fragrance. His tongue was starved for her blood. At night he could feel her breath caress the nape of his neck like she was lying next to him instead of two rooms away.

He'd asked Rebekah to clean her up and change her blood-stained clothes as well as purchase her some new ones. Maybe Rebekah had seen him standing in the doorway to Bonnie's room, watching her chest rise and fall in sleep, and fighting off the hunger for her blood.

"What makes you think she'll stay anyway" Rebekah returned to her seat on the sofa with a replenished glass of merlot, "instead of turning your brain to minced-meat as soon as she wakes up?"

"Her powers are weak, almost non-existent. And she's as destitute as a lamb. There's nowhere else for her to go - "

"Except into your waiting arms so you can have a new pet." she finished.

Klaus gave her a bored look, "I have no use for pets, Bekah. But you can have as many as you wish once this is over."

"Once what is over? I still don't know what we're doing here Nik."

"You mean this isn't a family visit?" Marcel Gerard's rich, lilting voice preceded him into the room.

Klaus saw his sister flush to the roots of her hair while he stood up to greet his former pupil. "What'll it be, Marcellus, scotch or do you still prefer the old Southern brandies?"

Marcel pried his eyes from Rebekah, "Sorry I'm late. Two more of my vampires have gone missing. No sign of them yet."

Klaus opened his liqour cabinet and retrieved two bottles and a decanter, "You think they were taken by whatever it was that took your lieutenant...Jacques was his name?"

"You have lieutenants?" Rebekah crossed her arms, "since when?"

"Since I took New Orleans under my care," Marcel accepted the glass of scotch and raised it in Rebekah's direction, "'king' sounds so archaic. People are wary of kings. What they want is a strategist, a general."

Klaus felt the corner of his mouth twitch in approval, "I'm impressed." Marcel clinked their glasses together.

Rebekah turned on her heel and swept out of the room.

"Give her time," Klaus said to the frowning Marcel, "Bekah's more stubborn than I am."

Marcel took a drink of scotch, "So, what are you really doing here, old friend?"

"I've neglected this beautiful city for much too long," Klaus sprawled himself on the sofa, resting his ankle on the other knee, "what's all this I hear about headless bodies and the witches leaving?"

"You tell me," the younger vampire sat down across from him and gave him an inquiring look,"if I didn't know better I'd say someone was trying to stage a coup."

He threw back his head laughing, "Surely you don't think it's me? I'm only here to take in the balmy Southern air. And offer any assistance you might need."

Marcel smiled over his glass, though his eyes remained speculative, "Is that why you've kidnapped the witch we were buying blood from?"

"Rescued, Marcel. One of your boys was tapping the supply chain. Witch's blood can be a dangerous temptation."

"But a powerful antidote to almost any supernatural poison."

Klaus nodded in approval, "I think I might know who's responsible for the missing heads. And your missing vampires."

Marcel leaned forward. Just then, they were interrupted by the distant sound of glass shattering above them.

* * *

She awoke with a suffocating sense of deja vu, expecting the sterile beige and cream of hospital room walls and the smell of Lysol. But there was no IV in her arm, no quiet beeping of strange machines around her bed. In fact, this bed was definitely not a hospital bed. It was too large and lushly outfitted with a mint-green down comforter.

Bonnie sat up and almost instantly regretted it. Rubbing her aching temple, she took in her surroundings. Delicate white curtains and pale-green furnishings. A cherry-wood dresser and vanity and shiny hardwood floors.

Pushing the covers off, she noticed she was dressed in a soft cornflower-blue cotton nightie, one she had no memory of putting on.

_Ok, Bonnie, stay calm. There's an explanation for this._

When her feet touched the ground, she had to hold the end table for support as a wave of dizziness swept over her. She noticed something else on the end-table: a plate of cookies and a pitcher of iced water with lemon slices floating. There was barely any condensation on the glass, which meant someone had put it there only a few minutes ago. Bonnie poured herself a glass and raised it to her parched lips. But the water turned bloody, and instead of a glass her fingers held a strong, masculine wrist tight to her mouth as she lapped up the hot, bubbling blood.

The glass slipped and shattered at her feet.

She remembered the snap of Loretta's neck being broken, her own desperate attempt to use vervain on an enraged vamp, and his teeth tearing, slobbering at her throat, grunting as he fed on her blood. And then...

Ice water touched her toes, making her jump.

_Klaus._

A hot wave of memory washed over her. He'd fed her his blood, and what's more, she'd drunk it willingly. Shuddering, she scanned her surroundings, looking for a way to escape.

Her vervain necklace was gone, and her magic was barely a flicker. Even at her most powerful, Klaus was not an adversary she could face unaided. Still, she wasn't about to sit around and wait for whatever it is he had planned.

Glancing around the room, her eyes rested on a wooden table lamp decorated with exquisite green hummingbirds. It looked like the sort of thing up for auction at Sothebys. Bonnie removed the shade and smashed the wood against the wall. Once, twice, until its slender, carved body splintered into the semblance of a stake. An imperfect weapon. But a weapon nonetheless.

She turned to find Klaus lounging in the doorway, arms crossed and a half-smile on his face. His steel-blue eyes fixed her with an intense scrutiny that was familiar and disarming all at once.

"Such a pity when beautiful things get broken."

Bonnie held the stake by her hip, "Wood can still hurt a vampire, even an Original."

Klaus took in the sight of her slight figure, barefoot with tousled hair, in a blue babydoll nightie that hit mid-thigh, threatening him with an impromptu wooden stake. Her heartbeat was a loud, luscious thumping in his ear, her scent making him ravenous in a hundred different ways. But he managed, with some effort, to tether the ravening wolf; she was a wounded bird, and if he didn't approach with quiet caution she would probably kill herself trying to escape.

He pushed off from the doorframe took a few steps into the room, "That won't be necessary, love," he said as she held up the stake, "You're free to go, if you wish.

Confusion creased her brow, "You're lying."

Broken shards from the water-glass crunched under his boots as he stood in front of her. Bonnie swallowed the dryness in her throat as the memory of drinking his blood flashed into her mind. His aftershave teased her senses, and underneath her fear something else, something warm and languid, unfurled itself all along her skin. She felt sparks of magic slowly come to life within her with each step that brought him closer to her.

"I'll put you in a cab myself, and you can forget you ever saw me. But first, there's something I want to show you."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Klaus stepped aside, "Right this way."

"You know this is how Texas Chainsaw Massacre started off right?"

He pulled an expression of seriousness so perfect it was disconcerting. Only the intense flicker of his blue-grey eyes gave him away as anything but angelic. "I give you my word, no harm will come to you."

She felt like she was waking from the coma all over again. Everything was saturated in dizzying color and she could barely feel her extremities. But more disconcerting was her acute awareness of the warmth radiating from the hybrid vampire. Like a hearth on a cold night, she felt the inexplicable urge to curl into that warmth and absorb it into the pores of her skin.

She tried to wrap her head around what has happening. If Klaus wanted her dead or restrained, she wouldn't be standing here. So what did he want?

Her fingers curled tighter against the stake. Only one way to find out. "Lead the way."

Bonnie followed him down the hallway. No, Klaus was definitely not trying to kill or maim her. But she knew from experience that smooth-talking, indolent Klaus was far more dangerous than violent, raging Klaus. His nature was as mercurial as lightning, deceptive as the calm before a storm.

Klaus opened a door and went down some stairs, and after a few moments of hesitation Bonnie followed. The cool, dark basement air made goose-flesh ripple her bare skin. Suddenly a light switched on, blinding her. When her eyes re-focused she had to stifle a gasp. It was a mini-library, but also much, much more. Grimoires lined the shelves from floor to ceiling, embossed with beautiful tantalizing symbols that filled her eyes like stars fill the sky. There were chests of blood-moon candles and various potions she couldn't even recognize in beautiful glass bottles. Ancient maps covered the walls.

She could sense the storehouse of magical knowledge concentrated like aged wine in this small room. A feathery ghost of longing brushed for the innocent excitement of magic. Before the darkness and the death and the terrible, terrible prices exacted from her. An empty ache lodged in her chest.

Klaus watched her lower the stake to her side as her eyes drank up the room. Her face lightened until she almost looked like the girl he remembered from Mystic Falls. He suppressed the look of triumph threatening to dawn on his own face. He'd gone about this all wrong when he approached her at the Red Raven. He should've known that her magic, and by extension her ability to protect others and herself, ranked far higher than any monetary compensation. The girl could be living out a life of Dickensian poverty and she'd still rush to help her friends with no thought of reward.

"Do you know why your powers are so weak?"

His voice drew her out of the trance, and she replied without even thinking, "The spirits. They're punishing me for disobeying the rules by cutting off my connection to my magic."

"Ah those pesky spirits again," Klaus came to stand behind her, "I understand how you feel love."

She turned to him with a skeptical face.

"When my father learned of my werewolf nature, he and Elijah tied me down, while my mother performed a spell that she thought would forever keep me from my full powers. In their eyes, in the eyes of the spirits, I wasn't supposed to exist. They had no understanding of what I was, what I could be," he watched the play of emotion across her feminine face, "and now, the spirits have done the same to you."

Bonnie thought of Qetsiyah's words. Because I know what it's like to earn the wrath of the powers that be.

"You aren't the first witch to be punished," Klaus continued, "and you won't be the last. I have the Grimoires of nearly ten centuries of witches at my disposal. Say the word, and they can be at yours. You can find a way to get your powers back. And I can get the witchy assistance I need."

In the small room her scent beckoned silkily to his senses, sweet and warm like dusk in the summertime. He felt the slightest twinge of remorse: she was so very vulnerable and lost that this was almost too easy. But he buried those thoughts just as quickly. The hunter who looked too long in the doe's eyes was doomed to failure.

Bonnie felt her head swimming. Was it really possible that after months of living on bare threads of magic, she could maybe find a way back to her powers? To feeling the steady strong thrum of ancient magic in her veins?

But this was Klaus. No matter how charming or generous he was being, he always had an ulterior motive. Was she willing to gamble with the devil for a chance to be strong and self-sufficient again? But really, how could there be a choice, when her world was so starkly divided into mortal and immortal, human and vampire, the innocent and the powerful.

She looked down at the lone stake in her hand.

"What do I have to do?"

* * *

The last thing Joy remembered was a spray of something sharp and bitter all across her mouth. It wasn't blood, the taste was sharp and foul like an ooze from rotting corpses. It burned down her throat like acid and she coughed and coughed, clawing at her neck until the world grew dark around her.

And then came a silence so white and blinding she forgot the sound of her own breathing.

Slowly, the whiteness melted into cool mist, filled her ears, her nose, her mouth. Made her brain feel like cotton-candy. Everything was still and peaceful. She could remember nothing, could think nothing, and it was so very blissful.

"Open your eyes."

She did so, and a dank, grey stone chamber came into focus. Looking for the source of that voice, she saw a pair of intense violet eyes in a white, white face. Platinum-colored hair reflected the dim light.

Joy saw the thin, colorless lips move, but their words echoed inside her head. The words became her own thoughts.

"Do you know what you must do?"

_Whatever you ask._

"Good girl. I need you to bring me Marcel Gerard."

_Tell me how._

* * *

**Reviews are love, and loved! **


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